


Heuristic Set

by CrunchyWrites



Series: Learning on Parameters (aka Caleb Widogast Deserves Nice Things) [5]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series), Critical Role (Wildemount Campaign)
Genre: Aftercare, Blowjobs, Cuddles, Dom!Molly, Established Relationship, Explicit Consent, FaceFucking, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Kink Negotiation, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Safewords, look i didn't mean for this to become 12k of porn and feelings ok it just HAPPENED, sub!Caleb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 00:05:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14726174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrunchyWrites/pseuds/CrunchyWrites
Summary: It starts like this:The night is dark, and Caleb's shift on watch is up, and Molly is extremely,extremelydistracting.





	Heuristic Set

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by [this](https://smashesotron.tumblr.com/post/172386850373/re-mollycaleb-and-good-boy-uh-well) absolutely gorgeous piece of fanart by [smashesotron](https://smashesotron.tumblr.com/) \- I saw it and just knew that I had to write something for it. However, I was aiming to only write 6k or so. Oh well.
> 
> As always thanks go to my wonderful beta [Naluh](http://morstan.tumblr.com/) for catching all my mistakes and generally cheering me on x
> 
>  
> 
> If anyone has any suggestions or prompts for future fics please do leave me a message on my [tumblr](https://crunchywrites.tumblr.com/)!

It starts like this:

It’s their third night on the road when Molly and Beau opt to take a watch together following Caleb and Nott’s shift. The night is still and peaceful during Caleb’s watch, no bandits or monsters looming out of the darkness to threaten his sleeping companions, and he knows that if he didn’t have a task to distract himself with – tonight, it’s copying yet another spell into his book by the light of his glowing orbs – then he, like Nott, would undoubtedly soon find himself drifting towards slumber.

In all fairness, he can’t judge her for it. She’s had a rough day. Hells, they’ve _all_ had a rough day, but Nott managed to get the worst of it – they’d had a brief altercation with some wolves earlier in the day and even now, after a dose of healing potion and some of Jester’s magic, Caleb has still seen her favouring her right arm, doing her best to avoid aggravating the remaining pain of the bitemark a wolf had left wrapped around her shoulder.

She’s not favouring it right now. Right now she’s slumped against Caleb’s side, one hand half-curled in the fabric of his coat as she dozes quietly. He knows that they take watches together in pairs for a reason, knows that four eyes are better than two at spotting approaching threats – doubly so when one of the pairs of eyes has darkvision and the other does not – but he cannot bring himself to wake her. Not yet. She needs all the sleep she can get.

Caleb looks up from his book, peers through Frumpkin’s eyes to scan the night-shadowed valley around them, and returns to his writing. The night is still and silent and quiet. All is well.

Time passes.

Eventually, Caleb feels their watch draw to an end. It’s a useful ability, always being able to know when sunset and sunrise are – even now, with the sun nowhere to be seen, some part of him still just _knows_ its relative position, letting him calculate how long he’s been sitting awake for without too much hassle. Certainly he’s been sitting awake for long enough for his and Nott’s watch to end, which means that it’s time to wake Molly and Beau, let them take over, and finally let himself get some proper rest.

Caleb shuts his book, places it to one side, and reaches out to rest a hand on Nott’s shoulder.

“Nott,” he says quietly, and shakes her gently. Nott jerks awake against him, one hand moving instantly to her crossbow, but she settles and calms the moment she sees Caleb. “Come on,” he says, “Our shift is up. We can go to bed.”

“Who’s on watch now?” she mumbles, and Caleb watches as she lifts a hand to rub at her face, her yellow eyes softly luminous in the flickering light of the fire.

“Molly and Beau,” he replies.

“Okay,” Nott says, and takes the hand that Caleb offers to her as he stands up, pulling her to her feet. “I’m going to- could you wake them?”

“Of course.”

“Good,” Nott mumbles, “Good. I’m going to go to bed…” She squeezes Caleb’s hand, and then turns and wanders back over to her bedroll without another word. Caleb watches her go, waiting until she tucks herself into her bedroll before he too starts moving, his books bundled up in his arms. He crosses to where his bedroll is laid out between Nott and Molly’s and tucks his books safely away again before reaching down to press a quick kiss to Molly’s forehead, one hand reaching out to shake at his shoulder.

“Molly,” he says quietly, “Molly, wake up. It’s your turn to take watch.” Beneath his hand Molly shifts, stirring in his bedroll, and Caleb watches as his eyes flicker open, ruby-red and much, _much_ too sharp and bright to belong to someone just awakening from slumber.

“Already awake,” Molly teases, pushing his blankets away, and Caleb huffs and crouches down and kisses him again.

“How long have you been awake for?” he asks quietly, and Molly shrugs and stretches in such a way that his shirt rises up a little, exposing the soft lavender skin of his waist, before climbing out of his bedroll and tugging on his coat.

“Long enough to enjoy you being all pretty in the firelight,” he replies, and Caleb feels himself flush a little bit. He feels like he should reply to that statement, say something smart and complimentary and witty, but wit and compliments have never been Caleb’s strong suit, and so he doesn’t.

“It’s your watch,” he says shortly instead, “And Beau’s. Nott’s already gone to bed.”

“No time wasted in getting her beauty sleep I see.”

Caleb shrugs. “She needs it. Not the beauty part – just the sleep. She’s had a, uh, a tiring day.”

“We all have,” Molly replies, and Caleb shrugs again.

“She more than the rest of us.”

“Mm.” There’s a pause, and Caleb sees from the corner of his eye as Molly glances over to where Nott is curled up in her bedroll, his head tilted to one side thoughtfully. “… Do you think she’s asleep already?”

Caleb frowns and leans over a little, glancing over Nott’s form in her bedroll. He’s travelled with her for long enough to know when she’s asleep, and when she’s just faking it. “She’s asleep.”

“Is anyone else awake?”

Caleb feels his frown deepen. “Not that I know of…”

“You know,” Molly says thoughtfully, turning his gaze back towards Caleb with a soft smirk, “We could get up to all sorts of stuff with the others asleep. They’d never know.”

For a moment, all Caleb can do is blink at him.

“…Molly-“

“The night’s still young,” Molly says and he steps in closer, settles his hands on Caleb’s hips and brushes his thumbs over the curves of his hipbones. “There’s plenty that we could get up to.”

“Molly,” Caleb stammers, feeling the blush rising in his cheeks, “I’m- I-I don’t-“

 _I don’t know what to say_ , he thinks, and curls his right hand into a fist, running his thumb along his curled fingers in short, nervous bursts. Because, terrifying as the idea it is, it is still undeniably appealing to him – the night is still and silent around them, warm enough to be comfortable without being cloying, and Molly looks absolutely gorgeous in the firelight, his skin flushed just from the warmth of and _oh_ , but Caleb wants to kiss him, wants to kiss him and press a hand to his side and peel his shirt away and see just how far down his chest the flush reaches. He wants that.

But not here. Not here, out in the open, where anyone in the party could wake up and look over and _see_ them. Even now, when everyone else knows about him and Molly, Caleb is still hesitant sometimes to give proof of their relationship. He still pauses before taking Molly’s hand, still deliberates with himself before leaning in to kiss Molly on the cheek in front of all the others, and he knows that Molly does not mind at all but he still feels bad about it. Molly deserves better than him. Molly deserves better than someone who hesitates to hold his hand or kiss him on the cheek for no reason other than their own irrational anxieties and fears.

Still, tonight at least Caleb feels that his fears are justified. After all, what he wants to do is definitely a step or two above innocent kisses. Kisses and handholding wouldn’t get them arrested for indecent exposure.

Caleb shifts his weight to one foot, shifts it back, crosses his arms over his chest and stammers for a few moments more, right up until Molly interrupts him, a frown marring his brow.

“I didn’t push too far, did I?” Molly asks, sounding faintly concerned, and Caleb shakes his head and leans in to kiss him gently.

“You didn’t,” he says quietly, “I am just- you are a very distracting man, Mollymauk Tealeaf.”

Molly raises an eyebrow. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Caleb replies, and he can feel himself blushing more, knows that his words are lining up on his tongue in just the way that they’ll trip themselves up, “I am just- you- I need to _sleep_ , Molly. And you are distracting me.”

“Well now,” Molly says, “We can’t be having that, can we?” He steps back, dropping his hands from Caleb’s hips, and Caleb finds himself frowning at their absence.

“Molly-“

“No, you’re completely right, I shouldn’t be distracting our wizard. He needs to be well-rested for tomorrow,” Molly replies, and there’s mirth and amusement and _heat_ dancing in his eyes, pulling the corner of his mouth up into a lazy grin. “So I’m not going to do any more distracting of him tonight.” There’s a pause. “Of course, if said wizard wants to distract _me_ then who am I to stop him?”

Caleb can’t help himself – he smiles a little at that, shaking his head just a little at Molly’s antics. “You have watch, Molly,” he reminds him quietly, and Molly shrugs.

“So does Beau,” he says, “And I’m sure she won’t mind watching solo for a bit. Gods know I’ve covered for her more than once so that she and Yasha could elope off into the forest somewhere.”

“You have darkvision, though.”

“And she has her darkvision nerd-goggles,” Molly points out. “She’s not going to miss anything I’d catch, you know.”

Caleb does know. “Well,” he says quietly, “I’ll- maybe- I’ll think on it.”

The grin that Molly gives him is almost blindingly bright. “Glad to hear it,” he says, and Caleb smiles a little wider at the genuine affection he can hear beneath Molly’s words. “Now go to bed, love. Get your rest.”

Caleb rolls his eyes. “I’ll get what rest I can,” he mutters under his breath, his voice quiet but still clearly amused, and Molly gives a short laugh.

“Go to bed, Caleb,” he says again, and before Caleb can react Molly leans in and kisses him quick and hot and _filthy_. He pulls back after a moment and Caleb chases after the contact instinctively, already feeling himself start to grow warm beneath his coat. “Go to bed,” Molly says again, and the twinkle in his eyes has turned into something more akin to a smoulder, sending warmth running through Caleb’s veins, “And let me wake Beau.”

“Molly…”

“ _Go to bed_ ,” Molly repeats and this time Caleb hears the promise in his voice, spots the way that Molly’s eyes flicker over him for a moment. His gaze is heavy and hot and is as much a promise as his voice, and Caleb makes eye contact with him for all of a second and _shivers_. “Go to bed, Caleb,” Molly says again, and Caleb shifts a little in place, tries to ignore the soft thread of command that Molly has woven about his voice now. It’s not magic but it might as well be – it’s the taste of control, of dominance, and Caleb loves it so very much. “Go to bed and think of me, and decide if you want to do any distracting.”

…Well.

Caleb can’t ignore an order like that.

He darts his tongue out and wets his lips, glances over at Molly and then looks away, shifting in place to try and reduce the gently growing pressure on his crotch. Molly is beautiful in the firelight, purple skin painted ruby and amber and gold, and he’s smiling at Caleb in a way that implies _things_ , that implies action, that implies enjoyable hours spent in each other’s company and in each other’s arms, and Caleb denies himself many things that he wants but he is slowly, _slowly_ , learning not to reject what Molly offers when he wants it.

Molly has plans – that much is apparent. Molly will also stop and go no further if Caleb asks him to, if Caleb gives any sign that he’s too uncomfortable with this or just doesn’t feel like it. That much is also apparent to Caleb, even if it’s not something he’s got any visual sign or proof of. He just knows Molly now, and knows how careful Molly always is to make sure that Caleb is completely on-board with everything. If Caleb wants this to stop, if Caleb wants Molly to stop teasing and flirting and generally being very, _very_ tempting, he knows that he just has to say so and he will be able to get a good, solid, undisturbed night’s rest, and Molly will in no way judge him for it and will very likely return to his bedroll to cuddle up to Caleb the way that he knows Caleb likes when his watch is done.

Caleb knows all of this.

Caleb knows that he does not want Molly to stop.

He looks at Molly, catches his eye, and lets his gaze drop for a second to rest on Molly’s lips. “Okay,” he says quietly, and he turns, tries to ignore the way his cock is already half-hard in his trousers, and climbs into his bedroll.

* * *

It starts like this:

Caleb waits until they are just out of earshot of the camp before he tugs on Molly’s hand, steps him back towards a tree, and presses a biting kiss to the curve of his mouth. Molly gasps beneath him, one hand grabbing at Caleb’s shirt, and Caleb tilts his head and kisses him again, kisses him harder, licks into his mouth and steps in closer until he’s bracketing Molly, leaning down to close the short distance between them so that he can kiss him again and again and again until he has to break away to breathe.

“Caleb,” Molly says with a gasp, mischief twinkling in his eyes, “What a pleasant surprise this is. Mind telling me what inspired this?”

“I’m not stupid, Mollymauk,” Caleb replies, and Molly just grins at him, curls his hands around Caleb’s hips and draws him in closer.

“Oh, I know,” he says, “Trust me, darling. Intelligence is a very attractive look on you.”

“I- I know what you were doing, Molly.”

“Oh?” Molly asks, all wide eyes and not nearly enough innocence to cover the delight in his voice. “And what’s that?”

Caleb stammers for a moment. “I- you- you were- you were trying to get under my skin, Mollymauk.”

“I think you’ll find I was trying to get in your pants,” Molly corrects, and Caleb glares at him.

“ _Molly_.”

Molly grins. “ _Caleb_. Also, in case you’ve forgotten you were the one who gestured for me to follow you into the woods.”

“You started all this.”

“I did,” Molly says thoughtfully, “Are you complaining?” For a moment his voice loses its teasing edge, becoming soft and gentle again. “Do you want to stop? Because I know we don’t normally do this, love, I thought it would be fun, but if you’re uncomfortable or anything just say the word and we can go back to camp or just kiss or do whatever you want to do. No pressure.”

Oh, but bless Molly.

Caleb would never have expected Molly to be so gentle and caring and thoughtful when he first met him, and he could not have been more pleasantly surprised by the truth. Molly is so thoughtful, always, no matter what – even now, with everything that they said and did in the camp still hanging in the air between them, Caleb’s own interest evident in his breeches and Molly’s becoming evident in his trousers too, Molly is still entirely prepared to stop everything if Caleb wants to.

It’s nice. It’s comforting.

It’s _safe_.

Caleb has never had any concerns when it comes to having sex or doing anything with Molly, and he’s more grateful for that than he knows how to say.

“I don’t want to stop this,” Caleb says quietly, meeting Molly’s gaze for all of a second, and Molly grins and leans up to kiss him again.

“Good,” he says, “I don’t either.” He lifts a hand, settling it against Caleb’s cheek, and Caleb tilts his head into it without a moment’s thought, pressing an absent kiss to Molly’s palm. Everything is light and soft and easy, the night quiet around him and Molly warm beneath his hands, and Caleb cannot hold back his small, content sigh. He feels Molly’s hand trail down his face, brushing against the growing stubble on his jaw, and when Molly runs his thumb across Caleb’s lips Caleb shuts his eyes without thinking about it, opening his mouth and swirling his tongue around the digit almost entirely on instinct. He can taste the faint salt of Molly’s skin, can trick himself into believing he can feel the ridges and grooves of Molly’s fingerprint against his tongue, and when he hears Molly give a quiet gasp he opens his eyes and looks down slightly to see Molly flushed and wide-eyed and staring.

“Caleb,” Molly murmurs and Caleb hums again, lets his eyes flutter half-closed and draws Molly’s thumb further into his mouth. It’s so _easy_ to be like this; it’s so easy to stand in the soft silence of the forest and feel Molly’s hips beneath his palms and Molly’s thumb pressing against his tongue, thinking of nothing but Molly with none of the distractions that the world so loves to throw at him. He doesn’t have to think about combat or Nott or where his next meal will be coming from or what the others members of the party are thinking about him. He doesn’t have to think about any of that.

He barely has to think at all, and it’s wonderful.

“What do you want, Caleb?” Molly asks, the same way he always does, and Caleb answers immediately.

“I want to suck you off,” he says quietly. There’s no hesitation, no warring with himself this time – what part of him is still clamouring at the back of his mind is oddly muffled, muted and put to rest by… something. Caleb doesn’t know what. He doesn’t know why, for once, his mind is letting him ask for this thing he wants so very desperately, but he’s not going to look into it too far. He doesn’t have to.

He just has to look at Molly, and watch the way his face grows a little slack in surprise, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, and listen to his sharp intakes of breath.

“ _Well_ ,” Molly says and he smiles the smile that Caleb loves, bright and sharp and searingly hot, “I suppose I can’t complain about that.” For a moment, the smile fades a bit. “You’re not normally so, ah, _upfront_ about things like this though, love. Forgive me for asking but I’m just- you do want this, yes? For you. Not just because you think I’ll like it. Because- don’t give me that look, Caleb, I know how you are- because darling as this is, I want you to do these things because _you_ want to. Not for any other reason.”

Oh, Caleb wants.

“I want this,” he says softly, and he can’t keep the faint tone of urgency, of _desperation_ , out of his voice. “Please, Molly, I want to feel you, I want to suck you off, Molly _please_ -“

“Okay,” Molly says quickly and he kisses Caleb again, touches his tongue to Caleb’s lips before pulling back with the sound of Caleb’s whine hanging between them. “Okay, love. Do you want to take the lead on this or-“ He trails off, falling silent the moment he sees Caleb shake his head.

“No,” Caleb says quietly, feeling the blush rising in his cheeks. He knows the shadowed night will not be enough to hide it from Molly’s gaze. “I would- I would like it if you- if you would, ah, talk to me…”

 _Praise me_ , he means to say, but doesn’t. _Tell me what to do. Make it so that I don’t have to think_.

The words may not be spoken, but Caleb knows that Molly hears them all the same. He watches as Molly’s expression softens, his mouth curving into that little smile of his that Caleb loves so very much, and a second later Molly leans in to kiss him again.

“Of course,” Molly murmurs, “Of course, love. Whatever you want.”

“I want you…”

“I know you do, Caleb. You have me.” Molly reaches down, taking one of Caleb’s hands from where they still rest on his hips and squeezing it gently. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Caleb replies immediately. He doesn’t have to think to say that – he may still not truly believe that he deserves Molly’s love but he has no doubt about his own feelings. He loves Molly. He adores him.

He adores Molly for many reasons, and one of them is how easily he slips into the role that Caleb loves; that they _both_ love.

“On your knees,” Molly orders softly and Caleb goes immediately, sinking down to his knees amongst the loam and leaflitter. It’s surprisingly soft under him, cushioning his legs, and he shifts a little to get comfortable before looking back up at Molly. Molly just smiles back down at him and reaches out to gently take hold of Caleb’s chin, tilting his face just a little. “Good boy,” Molly murmurs, and when his thumb brushes against Caleb’s lips again Caleb doesn’t hesitate to open his mouth for it. Molly pushes his thumb further into Caleb’s mouth and Caleb takes it willingly, relishing the weight of it on his tongue. He swirls his tongue around it, skimming over the knuckle and feeling the smoothness of the nail and almost distantly he hears Molly groan quietly.

“Gods,” Molly mutters and Caleb opens his eyes, unaware that he’d even shut them again. “Gods, Caleb, you’re going to be the death of me, just look at you…”

Caleb smiles. He has Molly’s thumb in his mouth and Molly’s hand on his chin and he feels so unspeakably calm and settled and content, even here, kneeling on the dirt beneath the night-touched trees amongst the whisperings of the forest. He feels settled and safe down to his very bones, which he knows logically is absurd, because they are in a forest away from the main party and they could be found or captured or attacked at any time and his silver thread hasn’t yet been hung around them as a safety net and yet-

And yet, there is no worry in his mind. There’s just peace, and calm, and a soft, wonderful trust in Molly.

Molly will not let anything bad happen.

Caleb smiles around Molly’s thumb, and redoubles his focus on it. He sucks on it, just a little, and coils his tongue around it however he can, feeling out the plane of Molly’s thumbnail and the bone of his knuckle. It’s simple and easy and it feels _good_ , feels _nice_ , and when Molly withdraws his thumb and replaces it with two of his fingers a moment later Caleb _groans_.

It’s a small change, a tiny one, but somehow this is so, so much better.

“ _Gods_ ,” he hears Molly gasp and he hums a little, opens his mouth just a little wider and tries to fit more of Molly’s fingers inside his mouth. “Gods, Caleb, you don’t even know what you’re doing to me, do you?”

He doesn’t, but he can guess. He is not a stupid man and this is not his first time drawing out the anticipation of a blowjob – he recognises the hitch in Molly’s voice, knows the way he’s beginning to shift in place a little as if attempting to lessen the pressure of his trousers on his growing erection. Half of it is from knowing Molly and learning his tells and half of it is just from old, long-gone experience, and combined it tells Caleb very nearly everything he needs to know.

Distantly he thinks about what it’ll be like when he finally gets Molly’s cock in his mouth, and he feels his dick twitch a little at the thought. _Fuck_. Fuck, but he wants that. He wants that so, so badly, and now that he’s actually thinking about it, is actually imagining what it’ll be like he can feel himself growing more desperate, knows that he’s beginning to run his tongue across Molly’s fingers as if they truly were his cock. He wants Molly in his mouth and at the same time he would be happy to stay where he is forever, kneeling on the forest floor with Molly’s fingers in his mouth and Molly’s hand on his chin, and he’s torn between the two thoughts until Molly abruptly withdraws his fingers from Caleb’s mouth and Caleb, caught by surprise, hears himself whine quietly at the loss.

“Hey,” Molly says quietly, his hand settling in Caleb’s hair, and Caleb tilts his head up to look at him. Molly smiles at him, quick and warm, and even in the darkness of the forest Caleb can just about make out the flush painted across his face. “Not that this isn’t exceptional, love, but I’m beginning to feel that if I want to last any sort of reasonable length of time it’s probably time to move this on to the main event.”

Caleb smirks, just a little. As he thought, he hasn’t forgotten much.

“That alright with you?” Molly continues, “There’s no rush. We can take this at whatever pace you want.”

Caleb clears his throat. “It’s alright,” he says, “I want it, Molly.”

“I know you do, darling. You have your colours?” Molly asks, and Caleb nods. It’s a common question by now.

“Yes,” he confirms, “Red, yellow, green.”

“ _Rot, gelb, grün_ ,” Molly repeats back to him in Zemnian. “And if you can’t speak tap my leg three times, alright?”

“Alright,” Caleb echoes, and Molly smiles at him again.

“Good boy.” There’s a pause, a breath, and Caleb watches as Molly’s posture shifts just a little, his spine straightening, and beneath his coat Caleb trembles. “Open my trousers,” Molly orders, voice soft and silken in the still night air, and Caleb swallows. The weight of the order settles about Caleb’s shoulders like a physical pressure and he feels himself shiver again under the intangible weight of it. _Open my trousers_ ; it’s a simple order, straightforward, and Caleb, for all his wits and wisdom, loves it in its simplicity. It makes everything so easy, makes everything so _calm_ – it allows him to shut his mind to every other thought and focus solely on the task at hand.

 _Open my trousers_ , Molly had said, and so Caleb does. He reaches for Molly’s belt and undoes it carefully, enjoying the weight and texture of the buckle and leather beneath his fingertips before he draws it out of Molly’s beltloops and lays it aside, coiling it neatly and placing it on the ground. He knows it’s not entirely necessary to remove it fully but he doesn’t want it distracting him and being so close to his face when he’s sucking Molly’s cock, and so on the ground it goes.

The belt removed, he turns to the fastenings. Molly, because he’s _Molly_ , has ridiculously complicated trousers, by which Caleb means that they’re more complex than the simple ties that keep his breeches in place. There’s buttons and fastenings and it takes him a while to undo them all, especially with Molly’s erection straining against the front of the fabric, but Caleb doesn’t mind, and it seems Molly doesn’t either. Molly’s hand in his hair is exerting no pressure – it’s not forcing him anywhere, is only following where Caleb goes, and Caleb likes that. It’s simple. It’s _nice_.

He finishes unfastening Molly’s trousers, and looks back up at him, blinking slowly. _Done_ , he thinks, but does not say. He doesn’t feel like speaking. Not right now.

“Good boy,” Molly says quietly, and Caleb smiles.

 _Good boy_.

Gods, but he loves the sound of those two words more than he should. They settle about him like a cape, like a shroud, pressing through his skin and into his bones and making him feel safe and good and _wanted_. He shifts a little on the forest floor and then leans in to carefully tug Molly’s trousers down, just enough to expose his cock. He knows that he could drop them entirely and that Molly wouldn’t mind, but Caleb doesn’t want to get dirt on the fine patterned material of them, and so he doesn’t. He leans in, so very tempted to dart his tongue out and lick across the flushed purple head of Molly’s cock, and instead turns his head to press a kiss to the soft inside of Molly’s thigh.

“Caleb,” Molly whispers and Caleb kisses him again, feels Molly’s cock brushing against his cheek and breathes in the scent of his skin. “Caleb, darling…”

Another kiss. Another. Caleb wants to take Molly’s cock into his mouth, wants to learn the differences between it and Molly’s fingers, but Molly hasn’t yet said he can. Molly hasn’t yet told him to.

So he kisses Molly’s thigh again, kisses his navel, and when Molly takes a gentle hold of his chin and carefully tugs his face up he follows the motion easily.

“Caleb,” Molly murmurs again, and Caleb blinks at him, every thought in his head slow and quiet and wonderful. Molly shifts his hand, brushes his thumb against the curve of Caleb’s lower lip, and Caleb darts his tongue out just to taste the lingering salt of it. “Can I get a colour?” Molly asks, “You’re being awfully quiet, love.”

Caleb knows he is. He can speak, he knows he can, but right now he just doesn’t really feel like it. Everything is calm and straightforward and comfortable, and he doesn’t want to ruin that with the sound of his own voice.

He can answer Molly’s question, though. That won’t ruin it. Molly asked for him to speak, and so he can.

“Green,” he says quietly, and Molly smiles. He knows by now that Caleb sometimes gets like this, losing himself to the simple nature of order and response and becoming almost comfortably non-verbal. He doesn’t push when it happens, doesn’t ask Caleb for clarification or assurance – after all, Molly too has experience with something of a similar nature. He understands, and he knows what Caleb’s ‘green’ means in this context; it means that Caleb is happy and comfortable and content, and that he will likely only speak when he needs to safeword.

It’s their system, and it works.

“Good,” Molly says quietly, and he runs his hands through Caleb’s hair again. Caleb tilts his head a bit, pushing into the contact, and when Molly’s nails scratch lightly against his scalp he gives a soft groan, unable and surprisingly unwilling to hold it back. He knows how much Molly likes it when he lets himself make noise and he wants to please Molly, wants to make him happy, and so he remembers the instruction from the first night they were together and doesn’t muffle his groan in his throat. “Good boy,” Molly murmurs again, and Caleb sighs under his touch. “My good boy. Caleb.”

Caleb feels the praise sinking into his bones and can’t stop himself from trembling slightly. He loves it, adores it when Molly praises him – it makes him feel warm down to the very marrow of his bones, safe and secure and _good_ in a way that very little else does. It makes him feel protected and that, more than anything else, is perhaps the greatest rarity in Caleb’s life.

It also makes Caleb want to touch Molly. It’s all very well and good hearing the praise and _feeling_ warm but it’s better when he actually has Molly under his hands or against his skin, close and wonderful and absolutely, undeniably alive. It quietens some part of Caleb’s brain that likes to fret and worry; quietens the rabbit-brain that is always on the lookout for danger.

It is, he thinks absently, perhaps the only thing he can think of right now that could make the current situation better. He glances up at Molly, and knows that he doesn’t have to speak for Molly to read the question on his face: _can I touch you?_

“Hands on my thighs,” Molly says quietly and Caleb obeys him immediately, reaching out to wrap both hands firmly around Molly’s legs. The fabric of Molly’s trousers is soft and silky under his hands and he can’t stop himself from brushing his thumbs across it a few times, hearing Molly pull in a sharp breath when Caleb’s thumbs move closer toward his crotch. Molly cock is so _close_ now, flushed dusky-dark with blood, and Caleb can feel the saliva gathering in his mouth at the sight and thought of it.

He darts his tongue out, licks his lips, and _waits_.

He will not move until Molly says he can.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have long to wait – despite his apparent calmness Caleb knows that Molly is just as impatient as he is, and so it doesn’t take longer than a couple of seconds for Molly to brush a knuckle down Caleb’s face and speak. “Go ahead,” Molly says, and Caleb glances up at him, glances back down, and then he finally, _finally_ , gets his mouth around Molly’s cock.

 _Oh,_ but this is so much better than fingers.

Molly’s fingers, wonderful as they were, did not have the girth or texture of his cock – they were, for all intents and purposes, the same as Caleb’s fingers, the same as most people’s fingers. Molly’s cock is different, and Caleb only needs it in his mouth for a second to know that he will likely never forget it, exceptional memory or no.

For starters, Molly’s cock is ridged.

Caleb’s seen it and felt it before, has held Molly’s cock in his hand and stroked his thumb across the head of it and felt Molly shudder beneath him, but, as he’s come to realise multiple times in life, _knowing_ something and _experiencing_ something are two very, very different things.

Caleb knows that Molly’s cock is ridged, tiefling anatomy twisting it just to the side of normal. He knows that.

Having it in his mouth, however, is an entirely different thing.

Caleb has every intention of starting slow, but the moment he hollows his cheeks and sucks and hears Molly’s low moan the idea leaves his mind entirely. He simply _wants_ , wants Molly in any way he can have him, and it takes every remaining shred of his self-control to remind himself to pace himself as much as he can. He doesn’t start slow but he does start carefully – he’s done this before and knows how much time he needs to get himself accustomed to having a cock in his mouth again, and so he settles himself and watches his breathing and starts working his way down Molly’s cock. He wants to reach out, wants to move one of his hands from Molly’s thigh to grasp at and stroke what part of Molly’s cock isn’t in his mouth, but Molly hasn’t told him that he can and so he doesn’t, contenting himself instead with trailing his tongue all over Molly’s cock, feeling out the ridges and grooves and bumps of it in his mouth as he slowly lowers his head. He groans, quiet and low in the back of his throat, and can tell that Molly felt it because a split second later Molly moans too.

“ _Gods_ ,” Molly gasps and Caleb opens his eyes to glance up at him from between his eyelashes, unaware that he’d even shut them. “Gods, _Caleb._ ” Even in the darkness Caleb can see the flush that’s painted across Molly’s chest, making the scars on his skin stand out bright and shining silver in the moonlight. He’s gorgeous. He’s gorgeous, and he’s Caleb’s, and Caleb is entirely his in return. “Caleb,” Molly groans again, “Caleb, _ngh_ , Gods, I love you, you’re so good, my good boy…”

Caleb moans around Molly’s cock and does his best to take more of it, sucking Molly down like he’s desperate for it because he _is_ , because he didn’t realise until this moment just how wonderful the weight of Molly’s cock on his tongue was. He’s quick to lose himself to the rhythm of it and feels himself rutting up into air, knows that he is achingly, _painfully_ hard, and does absolutely nothing about it. He _can’t_. He has Molly now, has him in his mouth and beneath his hands and even though Molly’s cock is in Caleb’s mouth Caleb still feels like he is consumed by Molly, surrounded by him, is nothing more than the join of himself and Mollymauk and it is _wonderful_.

He moans again and the sound is almost inaudible, muffled by Molly’s cock. He knows that his jaw is aching and that there’s undoubtedly a disgusting mix of spit and precum dribbling down his chin and dripping onto the forest floor but he can’t bring himself to care because Molly is shaking beneath him, legs trembling and cock twitching and he’s making the most beautiful sounds Caleb’s ever heard and he wants _more_. He wants more than the weight of Molly on his tongue and in his mouth, wants more than the feeling of Molly’s hands curling through his hair, wants more than the sensation of Molly’s tail slipping around his neck as if seeking out purchase and he doesn’t know what this _more_ entails but he knows that he wants it with everything he has.

He wants _Molly_.

He wants Molly to come in his mouth.

It’s a realisation that hits Caleb out of the blue, and the moment he thinks it he knows he’s not going to be able to free it from his mind until it happens.

He doesn’t think he’s ever wanted anything more than he wants Molly to come in his mouth in this moment, and he can’t stifle the moan that slips out of him. _Fuck_ , but he wants that. He wants that so fucking much. He wants to taste Molly, wants to feel him on his tongue and in his throat, wants to feel Molly shake apart around him and _in_ him and know that he did it, that he caused it, that he reduced this beautiful, incredible man to a god damn _puddle_ with just his mouth and himself.

“Caleb,” Molly gasps again, his breath catching, and Caleb shuts his eyes and moans. “Caleb, sweetheart, I’m gonna-“ His hands pat at Caleb’s hair, not tugging or pulling but nevertheless giving the impression that he’s trying to get Caleb’s attention. “Caleb, love, I’m going to- you don’t have to- I’m close, sweetheart, but I’m not- I won’t come in your mouth if you don’t want me to, that’s absolutely fine-“

Caleb looks up at Molly, opens his eyes in a glare, and pulls off his cock for just long enough to shake his head.

“ _No_ ,” he says hoarsely, and is almost surprised at the certainty of his own voice. “I _want_ this, Molly. Please. I want this.”

“Oh,” Molly says softly, still short on breath, and Caleb feels his thumb stroking down the side of his face, pressing against his lower lip and growing slick with the gathered spittle. He opens his mouth, looks like he’s about to speak again, and Caleb continues before he can.

“I _want_ this,” he repeats, and he can’t mask the quiet desire, the quiet desperation in his voice. “ _Bitte_ , Molly, please, please let me taste you…”

“Oh, _darling_ ,” Molly says and Caleb trembles beneath his fingers, swaying forwards towards his leaking cock but not taking it into his mouth the way he wants to. Not yet.

Not until Molly has told him that he can.

“Please,” he whispers again, eyes lowered, and Molly’s fingers leave the vicinity of his mouth to resettle in his hair. For a moment, there’s the tiniest amount of pressure against his skull, the tiniest nudge towards Molly’s cock, and Caleb follows it instinctively.

“Caleb,” Molly says and Caleb flicks his eyes up to look up him, seeing the flush painting his cheeks even through the dark night. “Of course. Anything you want, you just have to ask,” he adds, and Caleb tries not to frown. It’s his biggest weak point and he knows it – even now, even after countless instances of Molly reassuring him that it’s ok to want things, that he deserves good and nice things, that he’s allowed to have them, Caleb still struggles to articulate his wants. Molly will give him anything, will _do_ anything that Caleb wants and Caleb knows it, has already seen so many examples of it, but he will only do things if Caleb himself outright asks for it. It’s not enough for him to simply agree to what Molly offers.

Caleb understands why Molly makes him ask, he really does, but that doesn’t make it any less frustrating. He _wants_ things; he wants a lot of things, but even now he struggles to ask for them, so quietly certain that he has no right to ask such things of Molly.

Which Molly knows, which is why he makes Caleb ask.

Caleb sighs softly, and runs his thumbs over Molly’s hipbones. He can ask for what he wants. He _can_ ask for what he wants, and he will, because Molly has told him to.

It’s so, so much easier to ask when he thinks of it as simply following Molly’s orders, but it still takes Caleb almost a full minute to gather together the confidence he needs to speak again. Molly seems to recognise his quiet, thoughtful silence – he doesn’t speak, doesn’t urge Caleb to get round to what he’s trying to say. He just waits, calm and patient, and only shifts when Caleb finally opens his mouth.

“Use me,” he murmurs, and he almost hopes that Molly doesn’t hear him.

Molly, of course, absolutely does.

“Caleb?” he hears Molly ask, sounding just a little confused, and Caleb sighs and shuts his eyes and presses an absent kiss to the soft skin of Molly’s thigh. This, he knows, will be easier if he does not see Molly’s face.

“Use me,” he says again, just a little louder. It’s still quiet, is still barely at speaking volume, but sound carries well in the still night air and Molly has sharp ears. “I- I want you to-“ He trails off, dropping back into silence. This is not something he’s ever asked for before, is not something he’d ever realised he _wanted_ before, and to even think to ask for it now feels like too much. Like something he shouldn’t be allowed to do.

“Darling,” Molly says softly, carding a hand through Caleb’s hair before bringing it to rest warm and heavy on the back of Caleb’s neck, “It’s alright. Whatever you want, it’s alright. You’re allowed to want things, love.”

“I know,” Caleb says quietly. _I just don’t believe it_. “This is just- it’s-“

“It’s what?”

“It’s… _more_.” It’s a useless explanation, a terrible one, but somehow, by some miracle, Molly seems to understand exactly what Caleb means.

“It’s a bit more extreme?” he asks quietly, quirking an eyebrow and grinning slightly when Caleb glances up at him. “Caleb, sweetheart, you do realise that’s hardly a problem, right? If you’re down for it, if it’s something that you want, then I want it too. I want you to be happy and enjoying this, no matter what we end up doing, alright?”

Caleb swallows. “Alright,” he echoes back.

“Good boy. Now, I have an inkling of what you want from what you said before, but I need you to say it for me, love.”

“I _can’t_ -“

“Caleb,” Molly says, and Caleb falls silent immediately, bowing his head under the weight of the command in Molly’s voice. “Tell me.”

Caleb swallows. He still doesn’t feel like he should, still doesn’t feel like he should be _allowed_ to ask this of Molly, but his own reservations and fears have never been able to last long under Molly’s orders. He can ask this.

He _will_ ask this.

“I want you to pull my hair and fuck my mouth,” he says quietly, and he doesn’t miss the way that Molly’s cock twitches when he says those words. “I want- I want you to put your hands in my hair the way I did with you - pulling, tugging, I _don’t care_ , Molly, just fuck my mouth.”

“Oh,” Molly says softly, and even in that single word Caleb can hear the arousal coiling around his words. “Oh, _Caleb_.”

“Please,” Caleb says softly. He’s hard in his breeches, has been for ages, but the thought of Molly taking his hair and _pulling_ and forcing himself into Caleb’s mouth, taking his pleasure from Caleb and Caleb’s body like it’s what he was made for makes his cock pulse and twitch in the confines of his smallclothes, adding to the growing damp spot at the front of his breeches. “Please, Molly, _bitte_ , _Ich will das._ ”

Somehow, it’s much easier to say ‘I want this’ when he knows that Molly will not understand.

“ _Ich will das_ ,” he whispers again and he leans forwards, pressing his forehead to Molly’s stomach.

“You’re sure?” Molly asks quietly. He runs a hand through Caleb’s hair, coiling strands of it around his fingers before letting them go and Caleb angles his head just a little, pressing up into his hand.

“ _Ja_ ,” Caleb replies. He doesn’t look at Molly, but he hears Molly hum quietly and a moment later Molly’s hand runs through his hair again. It slows briefly, stopping and tugging just enough to be felt, and Caleb gasps quietly, tilting his head into it. “ _Ja_ , Molly, _yes_ , like that, _please_ -“

“Can you give me a colour?” Molly asks, and Caleb groans under his breath.

“ _Green_ , Molly, green, just green, _please_.”

“If you need to stop at any point, for any reason, you know what to do, yes?” Molly adds, and Caleb nods. “Caleb,” Molly continues, and he lets go of Caleb’s hair to press a finger under Caleb’s chin instead, tilting his head up so that Caleb can see him. “I need words, darling. Tell me what you’ll do if you want things to stop.”

Caleb swallows. “I’ll safeword,” he says quietly, “ _Gelb_ or _rot_ , depending if I want to slow or stop.”

“Mm, good boy. And if you can’t speak?”

Caleb runs a hand down Molly’s thigh to his calf, and feels Molly shudder gently beneath him. For all that Molly’s words would imply that he is entirely calm and patient Caleb can feel the tension still present in his body, can see the flushed head of his cock and the perfect bead of pre-cum gathering at the tip. Molly, he knows, is as impatient as he is to get back to it, but Molly also has significantly better restraint.

Caleb clears his throat, and taps a finger against Molly’s calf once. “If I cannot speak I’ll tap on your leg three times,” he says, and Molly hums again.

“Good boy,” he says, his voice soft and low, and Caleb shivers at the intent he can feel gathering behind it. “Now open your mouth.”

Caleb does, and just like that everything is easy again. He sits back a little, opening his mouth wide and shutting his eyes – he doesn’t see Molly’s cock but he soon feels it nudging against his lips, and the moment the head comes to rest inside his mouth he seals his lips around it, careful of his teeth as Molly starts slowly pushing in. What little noise and clamour had been building in his head since he started telling Molly what he wanted is gone now, muted and silenced by the simplicity of following Molly’s orders.

Of letting himself be used.

Caleb doesn’t even have to think now. There’s nothing that he has to do that requires much degree of mental effort – everything has once again narrowed down to Molly’s body beneath his hands and Molly’s cock lying heavy on his tongue, and when Molly starts moving, shifting his hips forwards to slowly push further into Caleb’s mouth Caleb very nearly sighs with delight.

It’s _perfect_.

“ _Caleb_ ,” Molly gasps, and Caleb hums low in his throat, holds on to Molly’s thighs a bit tighter and swirls his tongue along the ridges of Molly’s cock. “Gods, Caleb, you’re wonderful…” The hand in Caleb’s hair tightens, and a moment later it’s joined by another, both of them twisting and tugging just enough to send a thrill of pain-pleasure along Caleb’s nerves. “You’re so good, so good for me darling.” Molly rolls his hips again, seating himself further still, and it’s only when Caleb feels himself on the boundary of gagging that Molly pulls back to thrust back in.

He starts slow, clearly waiting to see if Caleb makes any move to change his mind, but it doesn’t take long for Molly to realise just how much Caleb is enjoying it – Caleb catches himself moaning on Molly’s second thrust, when the increased power behind it and the pressure of Molly’s hands in his hair actually jerk his head back a little and from there Molly only starts to go faster, picking up his pace until he’s fucking into Caleb’s mouth with abandon, his hands tight in Caleb’s hair. Caleb feels himself choke a bit, feels more spittle and precum slip out of his mouth and dribble down his chin, and there is not a single part of him that cares because he can feel Molly shaking beneath him and can hear Molly gasping and groaning above him and Molly’s cock is heavy and thick on his tongue and nudging at the back of his throat and the feeling of it is all-encompassing and burning hot and _wonderful_.

Caleb moans again, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes as he fights not to gag, and only barely manages to restrain himself from reaching down and palming himself through his breeches. He’s so hard it almost _hurts_ but Molly hasn’t said he can touch himself yet and so he won’t. It’s something they’ve tried in the bedroom a few times before, this state of Caleb doing only exactly what Molly has told him he can do, and it had taken barely more than Molly’s first few instructions for Caleb to realise that he absolutely _adored it_. He loves it, loves it more than he feels he should – for all it tests the boundaries of his self-control it still makes everything so wonderfully _simple_ , removing most semblance of choice from Caleb and leaving him relaxed and content and pliant as a result.

Caleb wants nothing more than to be good for Molly, and if that means ignoring his own needs then so be it. He can do that. He can ignore his aching erection, can ignore the dull throb in his jaw, can ignore the tears and spit and precum running down his chin and focus just on being perfect for Molly.

He _will_ be perfect.

“Ngh, _Caleb_ ,” Molly groans, his voice breaking on Caleb’s name, “I’m- Gods, love, don’t stop, don’t stop, you’re so fucking good at this Caleb, so good at taking my cock-“

Caleb moans again, louder, and sucks harder at the head of Molly’s cock. _Gods_ , but he almost thinks he could come just from this, just from the weight of Molly on his tongue and the praise that Molly showers him in.

“ _Caleb_ ,” Molly gasps again, and now Caleb can feel Molly’s legs twitching in earnest, knows that he’s close. There’s faint salt on his tongue but it’s not enough, it’s _not enough_ , Caleb has taken as much of Molly as he can but he still wants to be closer, and after a moment’s deliberation he pulls off Molly’s cock and gasps in a breath and says a single word.

“More,” Caleb whispers, and before Molly can reply he wraps his lips around Molly’s cock and sinks back down with nothing but that one word echoing through his mind: _more, more, more_.

More of Molly, more of Molly’s cock, more of Molly’s hands carding through his hair and holding his head so that Molly can fuck into Caleb’s mouth as if it’s what Caleb was made for. There’s nothing in Caleb’s mind now but _Molly_ and _more_ and it is _blissful_ , it’s not silent but it’s so, so simple and Caleb adores it more than he knows how to say.

He can feel Molly’s orgasm building before it really happens – Molly’s thrusts, which up until now had been smooth and certain, regular in a way that was easy for Caleb to follow and meet, start to grow erratic, his hips jerking and his breath coming in short gasps. Molly groans again, his hand tightening in Caleb’s hair, and there’s a brief moment when Caleb feels Molly’s thighs tensing beneath his hands before he tastes a burst of bitter salt in his mouth as Molly groans and gasps above him. His hips buck a few times more, forcing himself back into Caleb’s mouth as his cock twitches on Caleb’s tongue, and Caleb does his best to swallow as much of Molly’s load as he possibly can, letting what bit of it he couldn’t catch run out of his mouth.

It's slightly disgusting, and it’s _fantastic_ , and quite abruptly the urgency and ache of Caleb’s own erection becomes very, very apparent. Caleb’s quite certain now that all it would take is for Molly to lay a single hand in the general vicinity of his cock to have him coming in his pants like a horny teenager.

As it is, though, Molly’s hands are still in his hair – they loosen a little in the wake of Molly’s orgasm, and Caleb leans back a little as Molly starts to slowly slide down the tree, his legs shaking beneath him until he stretches them out into a sitting position. He’s still panting, gasping for breath with sweat crawling down his temple and running across his chest, and he looks so beautiful that Caleb very nearly doesn’t know what to do.

“Caleb,” Molly gasps, “Caleb, _oh_ , oh, you wonderful thing, come here…” He reaches for Caleb, wrapping his hands around his shoulders, and Caleb only needs the slightest tug from Molly before he’s practically climbing into Molly’s lap, straddling him and winding his arms around Molly’s shoulders as he presses his face against Molly’s neck with a whine. “Caleb,” Molly murmurs again and Caleb moans low in the back of his throat, thrusts his hips forwards and feels one of Molly’s hands settle warm on the small of his back. “Love. Do you want me to help you?”

Caleb nods. “ _Bitte_ ,” he gasps out, “ _Bitte_ , Molly, please, anything-“

“Of course,” Molly soothes and his other hand moves to the front of Caleb’s breeches, tugging at the ties. “Is this alright?”

“ _Ja_.”

There’s a rustle of fabric and Caleb feels the constraining pressure of his breeches lessen slightly. His hips buck again and he feels Molly’s hand against his back following the motion, not trying to force him or hold him back but instead acting as an anchor point. The hand by his breeches only shifts in closer to his cock, pressing down over the fabric of his smallclothes. “This?”

“ _Ja_ , Molly.”

“Do you want me to use my hand?”

“ _Ja_ ,” Caleb moans again, “ _Bitte_ , Molly, anything, anything, _please_.”

“You know I can’t resist you when you beg, darling,” Molly says, and Caleb can hear the smile in his voice before Molly’s hand slips beneath his smallclothes and draws him out. The night air of the forest is cold against him but he can’t find it him in to care, not when Molly’s hand is so, so close to him, but then the warmth of it vanishes and Caleb moans brokenly.

“ _Molly_ ,” he says, “please, _please_ -“

“It’s alright,” Molly assures him, “It’s alright, love, I’m just- I’m just making sure this is good for you.”

He turns his head away, and there’s a brief, disgusting sound as he licks across his own palm before his hand settles around Caleb’s cock, now slick with spittle, and Caleb groans and thrusts his hips forwards again. “ _Molly…”_

“That’s it,” Molly murmurs. His grasp around Caleb’s cock is steady and certain, stroking him with the quick, firm motions that he knows Caleb likes. Caleb gasps beneath his touch, unable to stop himself from bucking up into the heat and tightness of Molly’s grip and Molly just turns his head and kisses Caleb again, drinking down every gasp and whimper Caleb makes until Caleb has to break away to breathe. “That’s it, that’s my good boy, let yourself go, it’s alright, I’ve got you…”

Caleb groans again and presses his face closer to Molly’s neck. There’s no finesse in his actions, no elegance – he’s just chasing the friction and pressure of Molly’s hand, gasping wetly against his neck and moaning with every clever twist of Molly’s fist as he fucks up into it. Molly’s still murmuring to him, little pieces of praise and love and adoration and encouragement but Caleb is almost beyond hearing them now, is almost beyond understanding – everything has narrowed down to the feeling of Molly’s hand around his cock and Molly’s skin beneath his cheek and the taste of Molly still lingering on his tongue.

He can still taste Molly, and the realisation is very nearly enough to push him over the edge. His jaw is sore and his throat is rough and he can _still taste Molly_ , can still swallow and remember the feeling of Molly’s cock on his tongue and Molly’s hand in his hair and _Gott_ , but even if his memory wasn’t as good as it was he has no doubt that it’s going to be seared into his mind forever.

Caleb gasps, swallows again, and tastes salt on his tongue.

“ _Molly_ ,” he pants, “Molly, Molly, I’m- _oh-_ “

“Are you close, love?” Molly asks, the words murmured into Caleb’s ear, and Caleb gives a broken moan in response and clings to Molly even tighter.

“ _Ja,_ ” he gasps, “ _Ja,_ I’m- _Molly_ -“

“Tell me what you need.”

Caleb whines. “ _More_ ,” he whispers, and can barely hear his own voice over the ragged sound of his breathing and the slick sounds of Molly’s fist moving over his cock. “Just- more, Molly.”

It’s barely an answer, but it’s enough – Molly knows him well enough to know what Caleb means when he says ‘more’, and so he turns his head and kisses him again and takes in every little sound that Caleb makes. Molly tightens his grasp around his cock and increases the speed of his strokes, and Caleb groans into his mouth and it is _perfect_.

It’s perfect, and it’s hot and wet and filthy and Caleb can still taste Molly’s come on his tongue and at the back of his throat. Molly’s hand is tight and slick around him, twisting to meet every jerky thrust of his hips, and then Molly turns his head and grazes his teeth against Caleb’s pulse and Caleb is _gone_ , coming with a muffled cry and spilling into Molly’s fist as his hips jerk a few more times before falling still.

Distantly, he thinks he hears Molly say something, but he doesn’t focus on the sound of it – his entire mind has gone blissfully blank, swamped and drowning in pleasure in the wake of his orgasm. Everything is pleasantly cotton-soft and muzzy, his limbs gone slack and soft, and he takes a moment just to bask in the quiet of his mind and the warmth of Molly’s body beneath and against his own. He shifts a little, practically nuzzling at Molly’s neck, and it’s only when he feels Molly’s hand running up and down his spine in long, smooth strokes that he feels himself starting to settle and become aware again.

Molly says something again, and this time Caleb tries to focus on it a little more.

“Caleb?” Molly says, his voice quiet and gentle in the still night air, “You with me, sweetheart? You still here?”

“…Mm.”

Caleb feels a kiss being pressed to his hair. “Good,” Molly murmurs, “Good. You alright?”

“Mm.”

“I’m just going to clean us up now, okay?”

“Mm.”

Molly laughs, quiet and soft. “Can you make a sound other than ‘mm’, darling? So I know you’re actually paying attention.”

Caleb sighs against Molly’s neck. “Nyuh,” he grumbles, and Molly laughs again.

“Very articulate,” he says, his grin audible, and Caleb frowns and turns his head and presses a kiss to Molly’s neck. Molly doesn’t know it, but it’s a slightly annoyed kiss. Caleb is comfortable, and soft and relaxed and quite wonderfully blissed out, and he doesn’t want to have to think about putting effort into making different sounds. Thankfully, it seems like he doesn’t have to beyond that single instance – Molly falls silent as he cleans them up, wiping Caleb down with- well, Caleb’s not really sure. He can’t really see much with his entire face pressed against Molly’s neck and shoulder, but it doesn’t bother him. Whatever it was he’s pretty certain that Molly got it out of his own pockets, knowing how Caleb gets about everything in his coat being exactly where it’s supposed it, and a short length of time passes before Caleb hears Molly speak again.

“Colour?” Molly murmurs, and Caleb draws his mind together for long enough to say a single word.

“ _Grün_ ,” he mumbles, tilting his head a little and opening his eyes to glance up and over at Molly.

“Good,” Molly says, and Caleb shuts his eyes again and presses his face back against Molly’s shoulder. It’s a little awkward and uncomfortable what with how in this position Caleb is even taller than Molly than usual, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care at all. He is warm and safe and it feels like his limbs have turned to syrup, heavy and lax in their joints, and when he leans in a little closer Molly’s arms tighten around his torso and it is _perfect_.

“I love you,” he murmurs, the words more like a sigh, and feels Molly press a kiss to his cheek in response.

“I know,” Molly says quietly, “I love you too.” A pause, and when Molly speaks again his words are softer, quieter. “Gods, Caleb, I love you so much.”

Caleb doesn’t say anything, but he turns his head a little to hide his pathetically besotted smile against Molly’s neck. It doesn’t seem to help, though – he hears Molly chuckle quietly, and a moment later he feels one of Molly’s hands settle in his hair and start combing through it, brushing it back out of his face and scratching gently against his scalp. Caleb hums, a soft, content little sound, and turns his head to press into the contact, caught perfectly between Molly’s hand and Molly’s body.

“Good boy,” Molly murmurs again and Caleb gives a tiny, happy little wiggle in his lap. “You really do seem to like it when I call you that, don’t you?”

There’s no point in denying it. “…Maybe.”

“Any reason? It’s fine if there isn’t – I’m just curious.”

“There’s-“ Caleb starts, about to say that there’s no real reason that he can think of, and then pauses.

Because that’s… that’s not entirely true. Normally, he would never admit this. Certainly not to anyone else, and only barely even to Molly – it’s only thanks to the post-orgasmic haze that’s still hanging around him and the security and safety that he feels from being around Molly that makes him feel brave enough to answer.

“When you call me ‘good boy’,” he begins quietly, “It makes me- I- It makes me feel like I could be forgiven…”

There’s a brief pause before Molly speaks again.

“Forgiven for what?” he asks, quiet and curious, and Caleb shuffles again. It’s not a happy shuffle this time, and he knows Molly can tell the difference – his hand stops running through Caleb’s hair immediately and Caleb feels Molly’s hold on him loosen a little, as if making space for Caleb to bolt if he needs to. If he wants to.

And part of him _does_ want to. Some part of him wants to get up and grab Nott and rabbit them both away to somewhere where no-one will ever get close to his heart again, where they will both be safe and secluded and far away from any semblance of his past. To have someone so close to him is a vulnerability, a weakness; worse, it’s a stain on them. It’s the filth, the mud, the dirt that paints Caleb’s soul and Caleb’s heart leaking out onto them, and he doesn’t think he could bear to see Molly so exposed to that hideous side of himself and his history. Molly knows his past, but only vaguely; he doesn’t know the details of it. He doesn’t know exactly what happened to Caleb.

He doesn’t know what Caleb did.

Caleb can’t have that mark on Molly. He _can’t_.

But he doesn’t want to run either. Not now, when Molly means so much to him.

He pauses, wets his throat, and then there’s a few beats of silence as Caleb tries to find the words to articulate what he wants to say.

“It’s alright if you don’t want to answer,” Molly murmurs suddenly, and Caleb freezes. “If it makes you uncomfortable, if it makes you unhappy, you don’t have to answer. Just say the word, and we can move on.”

…Oh.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise to Caleb, and it doesn’t, not really, but it’s still a shock of sorts. It’s still a shock to remember that Molly actually, genuinely cares that deeply. That Molly doesn’t mind not knowing everything, doesn’t mind Caleb keeping things back, so long as Caleb is comfortable with it.

It’s not a surprise, but it still makes Caleb’s heart feel warm.

He doesn’t want to run, no, and he doesn’t want to tell Molly the full truth of the matter either. But he does want to stay close to Molly, and he _does_ want to tell him everything one day.

Just not right now.

 “Can we talk about this later?” Caleb asks, his voice small, and Molly presses a kiss to his cheek immediately, his hand starting to run through Caleb’s hair again.

“Of course,” he says, “Whenever you feel comfortable with it. Whenever that is. There’s no rush, Caleb. Just do what makes you comfortable, and I’ll be happy with that. Right now, and always, your comfort matters more than my nosiness, alright?”

Caleb nods. “Alright,” he murmurs, and feels his hands finally start to loosen from where they’d curled into fists in Molly’s coat. “Thank you…”

“Nothing that needs thanking for, love,” Molly replies, and he kisses Caleb again. “Well, I suppose I should be thanking you, considering what just happened.”

Caleb groans. “ _Molly_ …”

“What? I’m just trying to lighten the mood a little bit. Did it work?”

Caleb smiles despite himself. “…A little,” he admits, and he glances up to see Molly grin.

“Thought it might. I’ve always said that if we’re not going to talk about sad things we might as well talk about nice things until the sad things turn up again. Spend as much time being happy as possible, you know?”

“Well, I can’t argue that what just happened was a nice thing…” Caleb murmurs, and Molly laughs quietly.

“You did rather seem to be enjoying it.”

Caleb feels himself flush and is only glad that Molly can’t see it. “…I did. A lot.”

“Good,” Molly says, and he presses a finger under Caleb’s chin to tilt his head up for a kiss before letting him return to using Molly’s shoulder as his own personal pillow.

For a few moments, there’s silence.

“Was it good for you?” Caleb asks suddenly, and he feels Molly give a burst of surprised laughter beneath him.

“Good?” Molly replies and there’s no mockery in his tone, no hint of teasing. “I- Caleb, dear, I’m honestly amazed I’m still coherent. I think you just about sucked my brains out through my dick.”

“And that’s good?”

“Very,” Molly clarifies, and he tilts Caleb’s head up and kisses him again. “You were wonderful, darling.”

Caleb smiles against his lips. It doesn’t matter how many times Molly showers him in praise – every time he does it feels like a small ember lodges in his chest, small and warm and wonderful. Caleb doesn’t think he will ever, _could_ ever grow tired of it. He loves Molly, and he loves his praise, and he’s going to keep every tiny hint of it that he gets for as long as he possibly can.

“ _Liebling_ ,” he whispers, the word muffled between them, and Molly smiles and kisses him again before leaning back to look at him.

“ _Schatz_ ,” Molly replies. His accent is still bad but it’s getting better, and the earnest, open affection behind that single word just makes Caleb smile even wider. He ducks his head, pressing one last kiss to the corner of Molly’s mouth, and resettles his head against Molly’s shoulder with a sigh, winding his arms around him under his coat and feeling Molly hold him just as closely. Were they anywhere but in the middle of a forest Caleb feels that he would be dozing off already – he is content and safe and comfortable, made warm by Molly and Molly’s presence and Molly’s words, and as it is he can already feel himself starting to drift, his eyes growing heavier with every passing moment. He shakes his head a little, forces himself awake, but doesn’t move to stand up and start heading back towards camp. Not yet. Not until he absolutely has to.

Unfortunately, that moment comes sooner than he would have liked – if Caleb had his way they would have stayed in their close embrace for an hour at least, but as it is only ten or fifteen more minutes pass before Molly starts shifting underneath him.

“Come on,” Molly says, and he gently shakes Caleb’s shoulder, “Come on, we best be getting back. Beau’s only going to cover my watch for so long, y’know, and the longer we’re gone the more she’s going to give us that annoyingly smug smile of hers. You know the one I mean.”

“I do,” Caleb mutters, but it’s still a few more seconds before he leans back with a groan and a sigh and starts lifting himself out of Molly’s lap. He grimaces a little when he notices that his breeches are still undone and makes quick work of making himself seem presentable again, watching from the corner of his eye as Molly does the same. It’s still dark in the woods and Caleb doesn’t have darkvision the way that Molly does, but he doesn’t really need it right now – his eyes have adjusted to the night, and the waxing moon overhead is just bright enough for him to see by, even beneath the forest canopy. The moonlight paints Molly in monochrome, hiding some of the intricate embroidery on his coat by colouring it the same grey as the material, but Caleb feels that by now he almost knows the patterns of it off by heart.

Molly catches him watching, and grins at him.

“You all good?” he asks, and Caleb nods. Molly darts a step in, pressing a fleeting kiss to Caleb’s lips before taking Caleb’s hand in his own. “Come on,” he says again, and tugs just a little, “Let’s be getting back. Do you want to cast those lights of yours?”

Caleb shakes his head. “No,” he replies, and squeezes Molly’s hand, “No, this is- this is enough. This is good.”

Molly smiles and kisses him again, and the moonlight draws their path back to camp.


End file.
